


It's Only Time

by humansandotherpeople



Series: Gem and Sherlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bees, Case Fic, F/F, Getting Back Together, Rule 63, Science Fiction, There is a case, a few decades later, bickerflirting, dialogue-only (in the first chapter), identity theft, something like long-term commitment, text message conversation, well kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humansandotherpeople/pseuds/humansandotherpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has settled down in Sussex to keep bees. Gem Moriarty is somehow still alive and not even regretting it at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is it honey?

**Author's Note:**

> Set way after With the Lights Out, Nice. and Her Plan Went Wrong. Should work on its own.

G: Bees? You can't be serious.

S: Hello, Gem.

Your opinion on what I choose to do with my own time was helpful as always.

Sincerely,

SH

G: That took you long.

S: You can't stop writing to me for three years and still expect I keep this relic charged purely out of nostalgia. And you could have contacted me by various other means.

Your reply, however, was very prompt.

G: And you still have the bees! You never kept ME for that long at a time.

S: And this one too. At first I imagined that you keep your counterpart to my relic on your person at all time, but I realise that is too romantic even for you. And your answers were too fast, you've had the number redirected to some new system. A lens, is it?

G: Yes, never get one, darling. You typing is so charming. Wouldn't miss it for the world.

G: Not sure if it's worth the delay though, actually. Quick, tell me, do people die from irritation?

S: They do but you won't. You have admirable patience when you've set your mind on something.

G: So you believe it's still set on you, after all these years.

S: You did use to call it a lifelong obsession.

G: And you used to call it love, love.

S: We used to call it marriage for the better part of the twenties.

G: See, we all say stupid things when we're young...

S: I've missed you.

G: You've replaced me with bees! I still can't figure out the bees.

S: Neither can I. They remind me of you in that regard at least.

G: How many more decades until I'm rid of your bug comparisons?

S: As soon as those children can be everything to you that I once was, I imagine.

G: Never insult my favourite hivemind.

G: We were born too early, Sherlock. We should have been posthuman. Even teaching "regular" enhanced students has become bearable, can you imagine?

S: You should be grateful that you lived to see posthumans, professor.

G: God, yes. How could I forget. My noble saviour. Thank you! Again!

S: Although I am surprised you don't miss being exceptional more.

S: The "best".

G: And I'm not surprised you do, you selfish hag. Anyway, I'm still special and you know it.

S: To me, maybe.

G: Aw, thanks.

S: But then, as you so accurately pointed out, so are my bees...

G: Come on, just tell me already.

S: Say please.

G: Please.

S: What do I get in return?

G: What do you even want these days? Because I can't tell anymore. Is it honey?

S: No, thank you. I get enough of that. Would you stay with me for a few days?

G: What, in person?

S: I get lonely. What do you think made me pick up a phone in the first place?

G: And then it's THIS phone.

G: Fine, I'll be on a tube to Europe in no time. x

S: Will you ever stop using these? And you like to pretend you're so modern.

G: We may have become somewhat estranged but I know your heart skipped a beat there. You're welcome.

G: I believe you owe me an explanation of the inexplicable.

S: Are you on your way?

G: Getting dressed. Don't rush elderly ladies. So rude.

S: Hm, do I want to take your word for it?

G: You want to talk about it anyway.

S: And you want to see me anyway, so that's fair.

G: Yes, dear. x

G: Now spill.

S: It isn't inexplicable at all. I'm so much closer to finding out why they were vanishing now. And why these didn't.

S: Please refrain from wiping out a species the next time you want my attention.

S: Although it would probably work, especially with domesticated ones.

S: I shouldn't have told you this, should I?

S: Are you still there?

G: Sorry. Was laughing too hard to answer.

S: What's so funny?

G: Look at us, pursuing and spreading knowledge like good citizens. When was the last time you killed somebody?

S: I've never killed anybody.

G: Shush, not directly, stupid. You know I don't do that either.

S: Eight... nine years ago? Maybe? Why?

G: My last was even longer back. Who would have thought? And I didn't even consider farm animal genocide until you brought it up. Let's kill someone while I stay at your place, alright?

S: Together? That would be a new one.

G: Technically, no. Remember President Smittson? But still, love how you're not saying no. Let the Hive try and crack that one...

S: I made no promises.

G: Thank god! We know how that works out.

S: I look forward to seeing you.

G: You won't be disappointed. Age has continued to be kind to me, even if I say so myself. And...?

S: And I look forward to holding you.

G: Nobody ever believes me when I tell them how clingy you can get. And?

S: And even to the inevitable reunion sex.

G: Glad to hear it. And?

S: And to the murder.

G: Soon. x


	2. You always do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this goes directly after Is it honey? and it goes on for some time with some natural breaks, I'm trying my hand at making it a chaptered fic.

It was not strictly necessary to inspect the hives at this time, but Sherlock needed something to do while she waited. It had nothing to do with the fact that the apiary was in front of the house and she would be able to keep an eye on the narrow road leading up to it and make sure she didn't miss Gemma Moriarty's arrival. She wasn't impatient and she wouldn't seem that way.

The bees could tell that wasn't the truth, of course; rarely ever before this day had Sherlock Holmes given them this little attention. But she wasn't listening to the bees' complaints. That was part of the problem.

Although she had been expecting her (and how she had been expecting her!), the sight of Gem walking around the bend in the road made her drop the comb she had been holding. It fell back into the hive with a thud, followed by the buzz of a cloud of irritated bees, obscuring her view of her approaching guest. She just barely resisted the urge to wave them away. That display had been unprofessional enough as it had been. She stepped out of the insect cloud with as much grace as possible, scratching at a sting on her hand.

Gem was still much too far away, and snickering at her slip-up, and taking her time, not that she would have been able to go much faster, not with her bad leg, but still. Sherlock had the sudden impulse to sprint toward her and hug her; she had already admitted she had missed her, would it really hurt that much to show a little enthusiasm? Yes, it would. It would be an embarassment. Not even her running was what it had been, and besides, she had been doing just fine without Gem for the past few years, hadn't she? It wouldn't do to make it seem like she hadn't, now.

So her steps were nearly as measured as her... equal's when they met for the first time in four years. They stopped when they were barely two feet apart, inspecting each other, Gem leaning on her cane heavily, Sherlock holding herself very upright, her hands on her hips. Gem really had aged well, if not to say very little, since she had last seen her. But Sherlock was willing to bet she didn't dye her hair black to conceal just a few streaks of grey anymore, no, she had definitely finally caught up with her in that regard and gone grey completely.

„Done counting my liver spots?“, Gem asked, and her voice sent shivers down Sherlock's spine, just like the first time she had heard it, echoing through the smell of chlorine. What was it she had said then...?

„I wasn't counting liver spots“, Sherlock countered. „I was tracing your journey back. You were in Vladivostok – but I knew that already. Really. The Tokyo leads wouldn't have fooled me when I was thirty. But I expect that wasn't for my benefit, but the children's.“ Gem shrugged, giving her a mock innocent look. Sherlock carried on. „You did take the tube like you said you were going to, and sat next to a stranger with a dog the entire time, he changed trains alongside you until you rightly suspected he was following you, but you didn't get out until Brighton because you considered him harmless.“

„Again rightly.“

„Again rightly. Then you took a _motorcar_ – because, I suppose, when you have a Bentley and driver standing by in Brighton you become blind to the fact that you could have driven up to my front door like a modern, civilised person -“

„Right. How many?“

„Forty-three that I can see like this. Ask me again once I can get a better count.“

„Oh! Did you just ask me to get naked before I've even seen your face properly? Don't you feel that's a bit rushed?“

She didn't give Sherlock any time to answer, but stepped into her personal space, lifted her veil, gave her a very short scrutinizing look, threw the veil back over the hat it was attached to, and kissed her rather violently, nearly knocking her hat off. Sherlock's hands found their way to Gem's back and into her hair, (judging by thickness, she had won her bet – all grey now) she pulled her even closer and took over the kiss in no time, treasuring the moment when the other woman's lips and her entire posture went from aggressive to pliable.

When Sherlock ended the kiss, Gem blinked at her a few times.

„Good?“ Sherlock asked.

„Yes. I needed that.“ Gem burried her head on Sherlock's shoulder for a short while and allowed herself to be petted. Then she stepped out of the embrace, and Sherlock let her.

„Then why did you stop answering my messages?“ Sherlock offered her hand. Gem took it immediately.

„Because you were losing interest. You always do.“ Walking hand in hand came naturally to them, as if they never went anywhere in any other way.

„I wasn't this time“, Sherlock said, trying to sound calm, not defensive.

„Oh no you weren't! Of course not. Remember Budapest, darling?“

„I do, but...“ Sherlock could guess where this was going already, and Gem had a point. No need to show her that, though.

„You'd chased me through all of Europe just because I was quiet for a while -“

„Six months!“, Sherlock interrupted.

„I noticed a certain lack of any of that after the first six months this time around. Losing interest.“

„Well, I'm interested now.“

„I don't blame you, you know. We always end up building _routines_ , going _predictable_. Turning out to be just human after all. Every time.“ She shrugged, stared into space. „Frankly, I don't know why _I_ don't lose interest.“

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

„Sure, because _love_.“ Gem rolled her eyes and grimaced.

„I didn't say that. You said that.“ Sherlock smiled with badly faked sweetness

„You can say it too if you like! You've said it before. You can do anything you want. Keep bees! Look good in white!“

„Speaking of which, I won't get to see your natural hair colour, will I? Even if I ask nicely?“

„No, you won't, Sherlock Holmes, who doesn't care about appearances at all because that's all just transport. I never got to see you as a ginger either, when you still were one.“

„Even if I don't ask nicely?“, she tried, towering over the smaller woman, her voice much lower.

„No, Sherlock.“

„Well, then.“ She dropped the act as quickly as she had taken it on as she held the door for Gem. „Welcome to Holmes Manor anyway.“


	3. Algernon and the Vegetable

They had made themselves comfortable on an old, spacious couch, Sherlock sitting and Gem sprawled across it with her head in her lap and Sherlock's fingers absent-mindedly carding through her hair. From the window, which allowed a nice view of the somewhat neglected estate that neither of them were interested in, fell a distorted rectangle of sunlight that warmed Gem's belly. It was perfectly silent.

Despite the somewhat lazy picture they presented, they were quite busy. Not necessarily productive, but busy. Sherlock still relied on actual visible holograms and manual and eyetracking commands, so her activity would actually be visible from the outside if one paid close attention – the holograms were just flickers in the air from every perspective but her own, and her movements were minute and instinctive, but they were still there. Gem's lens, on the other hand, worked with impulses from her brain. She had her eyes closed but was still receiving exactly the same information Sherlock did; their physical closeness meant there was not even that irritating fraction of a second lag.

They were foregoing talking with their voices because digital was just slightly more effective. Sherlock was pondering whether that meant it was closer to actual mind reading than the spoken word.

Gem had used the term rather carelessly for years; _honey, you can read my mind, can't you?_ And Sherlock would do her best. It was always rewarding to get everything right, even if it was just another dirty fantasy of Gem's. And if she went long enough without misses they could pretend that it was the real thing. But what Sherlock did was, ultimately, just educated guesswork, and it had nothing to do with what actual mind readers could experience. And modern digital may have been quick, but it was just another communication interface, like bodies and voices. Gem was right, they had been born too late. All her money wouldn't buy her the ability to share a single thought directly, unless the new generation, all those _geniuses_ by the old standards, would come up with time travel so she could go back and give herself the software for her birthday, allow her to grow into it... But there was a way, it didn't cost a penny: Simply replace most of your personality with that of a dead mind reader who had grown up with it, and enjoy your new ability until it kills you. Sherlock hoped dearly the mostly-becoming-somebody-else factor would remain enough to deterr Gem; the dying factor was more of a bonus for her. Depending on her mood, naturally...

  * _Sherlock, concentrate, do we want them or don't we want them? It's a bit bland, admittedly...(G)_




Near-instantaneous communication made it obvious when one party's mind slipped. Well, everything had its drawbacks. Even mind reading must have had some, even though Sherlock could not think of any at the moment. Finally she managed to focus on the biography in front of her, the  _case_ , for lack of a better word.

The prospective client had a serious Z problem, and a less serious, but more immediate problem with their dealer; they were getting desperate and it was obvious that things were going to escalate soon, and there was where they could step in, make sure everything went smoothly. And yes, indeed, in the simplest scenario that would involve disposing of the dealer. It really was bland.

  * _I think each of us has done at least a hundred of those. Only the drugs change. (S)_

  * _Well, we have been doing this for some time. And people aren't that creative.(G)_




_There must be_ something _new. (S)_

  * _You don't approve, then? Thought so.(G)_




That was their fortieth rejected file. They were mostly too usual, for some homicide was just impractical, and one looked genuinely interesting, but would have taken a lot of time, and they were not quite sure whether they would be able to put up with each other for that long.

  * _Right, do you have any suggestions left? 'cause I'm all out of what I put together on the tube. (G)_

  * _What's that file? (S)_



  * _Not in the synchronized area. Get out of there and let me think of a new password routine – (G)_

  * _It looks interesting. Please? (S)_

  * _Fine, go ahead. It's a boy who took apart my thesis when he was eight. (G)_

  * _The dynamics? And you just let him? (S)_

  * _Weeell, he was right and I was wrong. Still a hard piece of thinking to disprove even today, not that you'd know. Anyway. Promising. Nothing remarkable afterwards though... (G)_

  * _Then why is it littered with markers for recent notable development? (S)_

  * _Oh, did I put an algorithm on that? Must have seen a lot in him back then... (G)_

  * _Something's happened to him. (S)_

  * _I can see that, something happened to him yesterday. (G)_

  * _Those are photographs from his eyes. (S)_

  * _Yes. (G)_

  * _Well, congratulations on another hacking job well done. But they aren't. (S)_

  * _What do you mean, they aren't? (G)_

  * _Either those aren't from his eyes or the previous ones aren't. Or he's shrunk considerably. The angles are all different. (S)_

  * _And look at his hands, that's not his skin tone either. If I didn't know they don't work that way, I'd say he got rid of all my bugs by pinning them on another guy. (G)_

  * _In, say, these two hours of radio silence? He actually managed to find a spot without signal... (S)_

  * _Still doesn't work like that. (G)_

  * _Do you have outside surveillance? (S)_

  * _Yes, I keep them seperately... here. (G)_

  * _That's still him, isn't it? (S)_

  * _That's... no, it isn't. It's his body. But_ he _wouldn't behave like that. (G)_




The realisation came to them both simultaneously.

_**They stole his implant and cloud and left him alive.** _

They ceded exchanging information for several moments. Then, Gem slowly opened her eyes, looked up at Sherlock and said: „Well. That is a bit fucked up.“

The inflections in her voice were quite striking after so long a silence.

„But interesting“, Sherlock said.

Gem broke into a grin. „Never said it wasn't. _You're_ a bit fucked up and you're still the most interesting thing I know. Hold on.“ She sat up. Sherlock waited patiently while she stretched and put an arm around her as soon as she she settled back against her shoulder.

„So, do you want to do it too?“, she asked.

„With you? Always“, Gem answered, shaking with silent laughter the reasons for which Sherlock only figured out after some time, when Gem had closed her eyes and made the file accessible again and was now merely smirking. She rolled her eyes and took another look at the file.

  * _He_ is _hit pretty badly,_ she concluded.



  * _Understatement. He is barely himself anymore. Look at him, he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't know his name in this one. (G)_



  * _They've left him a vegetable, basically. (S)_

  * _Rude, Sherlock. (G)_

  * _But that's what he is. (S)_

  * _Juuust an ordinary unenhanced human. Remember those, our generation is full of them. (G)_

  * _They don't rely on all this all their lives. (S)_

  * _Maybe some kind soul is going to figure out what happened before he starves and teach him how to be human. (G)_

  * _Or help him come after his implant, and the thief. (S)_

  * _We don't know they're the thief. (G)_

  * _Oh yes, I know. (S)_

  * _You're bluffing. (G)_

  * _I'm not, it's all there in the file, you're just slow. (S)_

  * _Okay, the thief, then. Let's call them Algernon. The Vegetable and Algernon. If they've learned to think with the cloud yet they must be worried about exactly that happening, some kind soul coming after them to get Veggie his implant back.(G)_

  * _The law would be on the Vegetable's side, wouldn't it? There must be precedents for this.Where are they? (S)_

  * _Bangladesh. Oh, no, actually, Algernon has made their way to Hongkong. (G)_

  * _Yes, you're right. Interesting. They seem to be attending a meeting that the Veg- well, your promising young genius had planned. They really seem to adapt to the cloud. (S)_

  * _Or the cloud is good at using their body. They seem to genuinely believe that they are Colin. There are bits of a different personality showing, I'd say, but it's nothing very prominent. (G)_

  * _You did research on exactly these kinds of things again while you were away, didn't you? Are they going to survive it? (S)_

  * _Nah, not for long. Seems to be a pretty grown-up body and they can't have had much in the way of implants before, or they wouldn't have got the stupid idea to steal some in the first place, what would you say? (G)_

  * _T102 at most. (S)_

  * _See, that's a jump of... I don't even know. I give them a year if they're lucky. (G)_

  * _Who would do that to themselves? (S)_

  * _Who wouldn't? (G)_




Sherlock held her tighter instead of answering. She nuzzled her face into her neck in response, eyes still closed and perusing the file.

Sherlock finally cleared her throat and asked: „So whose side are we on?“

Gem grimaced and blinked the interface away. „I don't know. Neither of them is really _desperate_ enough yet, don't you think?“

„The Vegetable is too confused for desperation and Algernon barely acknowledges that something has changed, although it does seem to disquiet them when they notice something off.“

„Right.“ Gem shrugged lightly. Then she broke into an unsettling little predatory grin. „But if we wait long enough I'm sure at least one of the two is going to manoeuvre themselves into a situation that they're only going to get out of with some rigorous outside help.“

Something occurred to Sherlock. „But if we intervene now we might be able to resolve this without violence.“

Gem tutted and shook her head. „No no no, this line of thinking is what made us so tame in the first place. Anyway, if by resolve you mean get Algernon to have it taken out again, that's just killing them in a slow and inconspicuous and somewhat ironic way. Actually, not bad. That can be plan F or so if we pick Algernon for victim.“

Sherlock sighed. „If you say so. So waiting's the plan for now.“

„Yes. I'm sure we'll find a way to pass the time.“ Gem wriggled out of Sherlock's arms and stood up, clearly more slowly than she wanted to, and she immediately had to grab for the cane that was leaning on the sofa for support. But then she tugged on Sherlock's arm and although she was not quite able to physically drag her anywhere anymore, Sherlock humoured her.

„Where are we going?“

„Grocery shopping!“

„I have a fabricator...“

„Exactly.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I first read Flowers for Algernon when I was nine or ten and it made me cry, I imagine Gem had a similar experience, except she was younger, maybe. I don't think Sherlock gets the reference.


End file.
